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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24867040">Minding the Children</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed'>bossxtweed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>victorian nannying adventures!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:15:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24867040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Missy and Clara become fast friends at the same time their charges do, only the pair of them feel <i>strange</i> around one another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Missy &amp; Clara Oswin Oswald</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Minding the Children</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’s there again, sitting on a bench, dressed in rich purple clothing and seemingly unbothered by the bitter cold, and something about her both intrigues and terrifies Clara, no matter the time of year; but there is no closer bench to watch her charges, so she sits beside her and smiles. The first thing she notices is the rather strong stench of ginger. <em> Is she </em> <b> <em>hiding </em> </b> <em> something? </em> Clara thinks, noticing the blood-shot blue eyes and the glazed look, and she nervously clears her throat, hoping to <em> finally </em>introduce herself (it does one good to be acquainted with the others in one’s profession).</p><p>“Hello,” she says. </p><p>“Huh?” the other woman turns slowly towards her and blinks. “Oh. Hello. Do I know you?” she narrows her eyes and Clara shudders, feeling as if the woman is somehow looking <em> through </em> her rather than <em> at </em>her.</p><p>Smiling, Clara replies, “no, I--I don’t think so. But we’ve seen each other, out and about, while minding the children.”</p><p>The other woman laughs. “Ah. Yes. Children. Minding---minding the---” she turns her head suddenly and calls out, “hey! I’m not taking care of broken bones!” Clara follows her gaze to see a teenage girl attempting to scale a tree, and she hides a chuckle behind a gloved hand.</p><p>“Girls that age have minds of their own,” she remarks. </p><p>“Mm. Wouldn’t know. Wasn’t a girl at her age.”</p><p>Clara looks at her for a moment before saying, “I’m Clara. Y’know, if we end up seeing more of each other,” she motions towards where Oliver is helping Digby build a fort, “we should probably know each other’s names, don’t you think?”</p><p><em> I already know your name, </em> she wants to say, but something in the back of her mind warns her against saying that; perhaps this woman is an ancestor, or someone who merely <em> looks </em>like her, so she bites her tongue.</p><p>“I’m <em> Missy,” </em> she states. “That’s it---no surname; it’s more of a <em> title, </em> really. The short form of it, at least. Clara. I know someone with that name, in fact, and she looks <em> just </em>like you,” she laughs.</p><p>“Huh. Well, I’ve only met one other person with my name, and she was a <em> much </em>older lady who, sadly, passed away last year.”</p><p>“Shame,” Missy says absently. “The world could always use more Claras.” </p><p>A shout sounds from one of the children and Clara turns her head, trying to determine if someone had gotten <em> hurt, </em>but the children are laughing and throwing snowballs, and they’ve teamed up, with Oliver and Digby on one side and Lucy and Franny on the other. Franny yelps as her brother hits her in the arm with compacted snow, and she and Lucy duck behind a nearby tree to discuss the best plan of attack. </p><p>“Missy?” Clara questions. “What’s <em> tha’ </em>short for?”</p><p>She balks under the glare Missy gives her.</p><p>“I <b> <em>told </em> </b> you: it’s <em> just. Missy.”  </em></p><p>Clara nods. “Right. Well, how long have you been with---”</p><p>“The Davis’,” Missy supplies. </p><p>“--the Davis’?” Clara asks. </p><p>Missy sinks back against the bench and shuts her eyes, and as the seconds drag on, Clara worries she’s fallen asleep (and she <em> doesn’t </em> want to wake her, if that’s the case, given how clearly she is under the influence of <em> something), </em>but the older woman suddenly says, “Couple weeks? Maybe a month or so by now. Not sure.”</p><p>Clara hums and leans back as well, and she stares at Missy, admiring her lips and the cut of her cheekbones and the <em> very </em> neat arrangement of her hair, and she forces herself to look away as a warm flush creeps over her. One of her friends had been barred from nannying for doing <em> more </em> than looking, and she always presents herself as uninterested in <em> anyone, </em>even the friendlier customers at the Rose and Crown---it’s better to be closed off and guarded than open and ostracized---and Clara feels content in her lifepath: she could nanny until the day she died and not once have any regrets.</p><p>“You were <em> staring, </em> love,” Missy says, and Clara startles, turning to find the other woman leaning forward with one hand on Clara’s shoulder. “Not that I mind, but I’m sorry to say I don’t feel the same,” when Clara frowns, Missy explains, “you’re <em> young, </em> aren’t you? No more than, what? Twenty-five? Where I come from, you’d <em> still </em> be at the <em> Academy.” </em></p><p>“Y’ mean to say, you went to <em> boarding school </em>until you were in your mid-twenties?” Clara asks.</p><p>Missy shakes her head and laughs. “Nah. Much longer than that, but---you’ll find that out later, I think. Maybe not. There’s----there’s <em> something </em>weird about you, Clara. You don’t know me?”</p><p>She blinks and pulls back, saying, “no, I don’t; at least, not beyond seeing you <em> here </em> a couple times before…”</p><p>“Missy, come look!” Lucy calls, and both women turn to see that the children have built elaborate forts.</p><p>“Very nice, love!” Missy calls back, staying firm on the bench.</p><p>Leaning towards her, Clara whispers, “why aren’t you going over there?”</p><p>Missy taps the side of her head and just as quietly replies, “migraine. It’s why I might seem a bit<em> out of it--- </em>I take something, on the side, without my boss knowing, to alleviate the pain so I can set about my duties.”</p><p>“And the children don’t notice?”</p><p>Missy frowns. “Wouldn’t say that, no; they probably <em> do </em> notice, but they don’t say anything about it because I think they <em> like me, </em>the poor dears.” </p><p>Franny calls out this time, saying, “Miss Clara! Come join us!”</p><p>“Hey!” her brother retorts. “You can’t have <em> three </em>people on your team! That’s not fair!”</p><p>Laughing, Clara stands and walks over to the children, and when she is standing between the two forts, she says, “how about <em>this: </em>I’ll be the <b><em>judge</em></b> in your battle? To make sure everyone’s playing fair?”</p><p>The children look between themselves before agreeing.</p><p>Clara casts a brief glance over her shoulder and squints as Missy hastily shoves a small rectangular device back into the pockets of her dress. She smiles before turning back to the children and their snowball fight.</p><p>One hour later, Lucy and Digby are complaining of numb fingers and Oliver and Franny have bright red faces, so their nannies call an end to their battle, saying they could resume tomorrow afternoon (so long as there are no heavy flurries and the children get their homework done in the morning). Clara waves at Missy, who smiles sadly before ushering her charges home.</p><p>The next day, Missy appears in an odd pair of sunglasses with the dark frames completely covering her eyes, and as Clara sits beside her, she notes a distinct <em> lack </em>of ginger on her breath. </p><p>“No drugs today?” she asks softly.</p><p>Missy sighs through her nose. “No, not today, but the pain is even worse than yesterday, hence,” she taps two fingers against her glasses. </p><p>“Ah,” Clara replies, leaning back against the bench. “Bit colder today than yesterday, innit? Has the weather anything to do with your migraines?”</p><p>“A bit,” Missy replies. “There are a <em> lot </em> of things in this universe that trigger them, and <em> unfortunately </em>a good number of them can be found on this planet.”</p><p>Clara laughs. “You talk funny, Missy. As if you’ve been on other planets somehow.” </p><p>Missy frowns. “Have you gotten to the moon yet?”</p><p>Clara blinks. “What?”</p><p>The older woman waves a dismissive hand, saying, “nevermind that. I’m surprised the children became friends so fast, given the age difference.”</p><p>“I’d say the same about us,” Clara states absently, rubbing her gloved hands together to warm up. “How old are you? Wait,” she holds up an index finger, “let me guess: mid-forties?” </p><p>Missy laughs. “I’m <em> flattered, </em> but---” she stops, frowns again, and after a moment says, “let’s go with that, shall we? If it’s how old I <em> look…” </em></p><p>“You don’t look <em> all </em>that old,” Clara interjects. “Reckon you’d be about my mum’s age, were she still around.”</p><p>The older woman quirks a brow, makes as if she means to say something, then gives another dismissive wave of her hand, her attention now fixed on the children. Lucy is again trying to scale the tree, and this time her brother is helping her by kneeling in the snow and letting her climb on his back. </p><p>“Hey!” Missy calls out. “Remember what I told you about <em> broken bones? </em> I’m nae a <em> Doctor!”  </em></p><p>“We’re being safe!” her charges call back. “You needn’t worry!”</p><p>Missy folds her arms and watches them carefully, weighing whether she would be fast enough to <em> catch </em> the girl in a fall or if she should pull out one of her myriad devices and safely <em> teleport </em> the child to the ground. Either way, she doubts seeing the child go <em> splat </em>will bode well for either herself or Clara.</p><p>“How long have you been a governess?” Missy asks, staring intently at Clara.</p><p>“Me? Few years or so. This is my first with the Latimers, though. They’re a nice family to work for, but Mr. Latimer’s been rather <em> distant </em>since his wife died, and his children can tell. It’s a shame, really.”</p><p>When Clara turns, Missy isn’t looking at her but at the children, particularly Lucy, who is struggling to grasp a high branch. She leans too far forward and the branch beneath her breaks, and Missy hastens to pull a small, round device from the folds of her dress, something that looks like a pocket watch, and when she pushes the stopper, the world around her <em> stops.  </em></p><p>Snowflakes hang in the air, the broken branch hovers precariously above the ground, and Oliver, Digby, and Franny stand still, their mouths opened wide and their arms caught mid-frantic wave, the oldest of the trio stuck halfway in turning towards the bench.</p><p>Hastening to her feet, Missy rushes forward to stand beneath Lucy, braces her legs to bear the girl’s weight, and startles as Clara comes up behind her.</p><p>“Missy!” she exclaims, her brown eyes wide. “Wha--wha’s <em> happened? </em> How come everyone’s <b> <em>frozen?!” </em> </b></p><p>Judging by the tone of her exclamation, Clara <em> knows </em> that Missy has just cursed, but the language is foreign, with a somewhat <em> musical </em>quality to it, and it’s one she cannot place, no matter how hard she tries.</p><p>“Missy?!”</p><p>She turns and glares at the younger woman. “Not now, Clara. I’ve got to save my charge or my plan’ll <em> never </em> work---well.” She tilts her head from side to side before saying, “there’s a <em> good chance </em> it won’t work, and I’d rather <b> <em>nae </em> </b>risk it, if I have any say in the matter.”</p><p>Exasperated, Clara exclaims, “you’re not answering my question! You used <em> that device,” </em> she motions towards Missy’s odd watch-shaped device, “to <em> freeze time, </em> and I’m asking <b> <em>how </em> </b>that’s possible!”</p><p>Her patience wearing thin, Missy sighs. “Humans! Always asking about things you shouldn’t be….”</p><p>“Missy---”</p><p>“Look at me,” Missy orders. “I <em> mean </em> it, <em> look </em>at me,” she reaches out and grabs one of Clara’s wrists, “deep into my eyes.”</p><p>Clara obliges. Funny. Just a second ago she hadn’t felt dizzy---</p><p>“Now <em> forget,” </em>Missy orders.</p><p>Clara blinks and the nauseous panic subsides. </p><p>While she’s distracted, Missy resumes her place and sets the world going again, sending the branch down into the snow with a gentle thud, and Lucy screams, thinking herself doomed, until she lands in Missy’s strong, sturdy arms.</p><p>“Missy! I was <em> so </em>frightened---I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she buries her face in Missy’s shoulder and starts to cry, and the sound breaks Missy’s hearts.</p><p>“‘s alright, love. Accidents happen. But,” she gently sets the girl down in the snow before saying, “now you know better, yeah? No more climbing trees? At least---not the <em> unsturdy </em>ones?”</p><p>Lucy wipes at her eyes and nods furiously. “Yes, yes. Missy,” she doesn’t meet her governess’ gaze as she whispers, “I want to go home now.”</p><p>With a sad smile, Missy holds her hand out to the girl before calling out to Oliver. “Goodbye, Clara,” she says, leading the children off.</p><p>“See you tomorrow?”</p><p>Missy turns and shrugs. “We’ll see. After a fall like that, I doubt Lucy will want to go anywhere for a while.”</p><p>Per their father’s wishes, Clara keeps the children inside the next few days and gives them lessons on grammar and geography, and when they’ve tired of that they demand she sit at the piano and perform for them, although she definitely does <em> not </em>feel confident enough, and she plunks away at the keys, somehow managing “Ode to Joy” before the maid comes in, announcing the start of dinner.</p><p>A few weeks pass before Lucy and Oliver return to the park, and when they do, the snow has faded into grey slush and they have a <em> new </em>governess, someone taller and broader than Missy, who sits down besides Clara without regarding her.</p><p>“Um, sorry---” she starts, offering a disarming smile. “Um---the---the woman---Missy---who was with the Davis’ before… what happened to her?”</p><p>“No longer works for them,” the stranger curtly replies. Then, after fumbling for a few moments, she pulls a sealed envelope from within her dress and hands it to Clara. “Left this for you, though.”</p><p>“Oh? Thanks,” comes the sheepish reply. “We didn’t know each other that long, but I like to think we were <em> friends…” </em></p><p>Seeing the blank look on the other woman’s face, Clara falls quiet and scoots to the far end of the bench, letting her have her space. <em> Such women </em> <b> <em>shouldn’t </em> </b> <em> work with children, </em> she thinks, <em> they’re </em> <b> <em>cruel </em> </b> <em> and </em> <b> <em>callous </em> </b> <em> and don’t care for their needs beyond the surface level… </em></p><p>She opens the envelope and to her surprise finds a <em>colored photograph, </em>not taken with the technology of <em>her </em>time but with that of a full <em>century </em>later, a polaroid, with three smiling figures: Missy, a grey-haired man, and someone who looks <b><em>exactly like Clara,</em></b> only her clothes are <em>weird </em>and her hair is <em>shorter </em>and <em>straight, </em>and Clara gasps. Turning over the photograph reveals a note from Missy, signed in delicate cursive and marked with blood-red lipstick.</p><p><em> Be good to him, </em> the note reads, and Clara shoves the offending item back into the envelope, feeling <em> deeply </em>disturbed.</p>
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